


Late (But Worth the Wait)

by lordelannette



Series: Stucky One-Shots [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Birthday Presents, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordelannette/pseuds/lordelannette
Summary: Of all the days to be late, it was today -- on his twenty-fourth goddamn birthday when he had overslept, was missing a button on his jacket, had an empty container of coffee, had to take a taxi, had soaking wet shoes, had no breakfast, and was on the verge of crying his fucking eyes out in the middle of the fucking break room of Shield Enterprise all while his boss regarded him with those striking blue eyes of his that always had Bucky aching and going goddamn crazy.“You’re late," Steve said.Yeah, no shit.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Stucky One-Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895044
Comments: 17
Kudos: 279





	Late (But Worth the Wait)

There were a number of reasons why Bucky Barneses twenty-fourth birthday was probably one of the most unhappiest days of his life. 

For one, he overslept. A night of tossing and turning had left him bitter and dissatisfied and  _ of course  _ his oversleeping had led to him being late to work. And then there’s the fact that he wasn’t able to celebrate his birthday with his friends, who were out touring Central America on some self-finding trip. 

For the first time ever, he was left to celebrate with himself. And last but not least, there was no way that his boss, Steven Rogers, would take him being late lightly. And boy wasn’t that the joke of the century-- Bucky  _ fucking  _ Barnes was working for a former classmate of his (only two years older) who had at one time been his considered equal. Because when Bucky had waltzed into NYU with wide eyes and off to every class like the embarrassing freshman that he was, Steven Rogers, the skinny-boned Junior, had sat right beside him in Economics, chuckled when Bucky pulled out his fancy pack of colored pens, and the rest had been history. 

After scrambling out of his tangled white sheets, and thick, heavy blanket that threatened to suffocate him, Bucky gathered his clothes and began dressing only to curse at the sight of a missing button on his suit jacket. He was fuming, trying to hide and failing to hide the missing thing by leaving it open and hoping his black button up underneath would be enough for the day. He prayed that no one at the office would notice. 

Coffee would make things incredibly better, he realized positively, only he had forgotten to buy coffee after work yesterday. 

He stood there staring at his Keurig, resisting the urge to bang his head on the counter. He had thought too much about eating, showering, and trying to sleep that he hadn’t stopped to think about running to the store for some goddamn coffee. And to Bucky, a coffee-less morning was sure to ensue a rather shitty day. 

Bucky groaned the entire time he yanked on his tie, folding it up and over like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Afterwards, he combed through his tangled brown hair, quickly brushed his teeth, and applied the barest level of concealer on his face to hide the shadows under his eyes, only to then race to his car, hop in, and find that the battery had died. 

Of. All. Fucking. Days. 

Manhattan was dreary and wet today, too, with heavy sheets of rain continuously pouring down with no mercy. And while walking and signaling for a taxi, some asshole in one of those expensive cards drove past him and hit a pothole filled with rainwater that sloshed over the edge and entirely soaked both Bucky’s feet and pride. 

He stood there with his lips pressed into a thin line, on the verge of tears while a taxi finally saw his raised hand and drove over to him. _ It could have been worse _ , he tried to assure himself. He could have been covered from head to toe instead of just his feet. 

But  _ fuck  _ was it tiring to remain so goddamn optimistic. 

By the time he even made it to the office, he was more than an hour late and his stomach was rumbling with hunger from his skipped breakfast. He hoped someone had brought in some donuts or  _ something  _ but there wasn’t any when he got to the kitchen area to check, even though he eyed the empty bagel carrier in the trash can with absolute hatred. 

He eventually stood at the sink in the break room, his hands gripping the corners of the counter, knuckles white, and kept telling himself that he  _ wasn’t  _ going to cry. Even though he really, really,  _ really  _ wanted to. He took in a deep breath and then let it out, shakily. 

“You’re late.” 

The surprised, deep and smooth male voice made him jump. Bucky gasped, turning around quickly only to find himself stuck in the striking blue eyes of his boss. 

“I’m sorry,” was the quickest thing he could think of and let spill from his lips. Even though what he really wanted to say is, ‘ _ Yeah, no shit _ .’ 

Steve Rogers looked as perfect as he always did. He stood there, tall and goddamn huge with his thick arms and his even thicker thighs and Bucky couldn’t help but blush - Steve had that effect on everyone it seemed. Bucky looked away from him, from the man whose body was wrapped in an expensive looking grey suit and white collared shirt underneath. Steve’s dark blond hair was combed back today and Bucky was keen enough on the man that he could tell Steve had trimmed up his beard a bit compared to yesterday (not that Bucky would admit that because that would just make him weird as hell  _ and  _ a bit stalkerish-- which he absolutely wasn’t). 

“What happened?” Steve asked him. There was curiosity there in his voice. And maybe concern? Probably not, but it was obvious Steve Rogers knew that Bucky fucking Barnes was never late unless the time was under stome extreme circumstances. 

Bucky’s shoulders lifted into a shrug and he forced himself to stay together. “Just a shitty day,” he murmured as he turned back around and dumped the stale coffee that was in his foam cup he had sat down beside the sink. The break room coffee was never a good thing to experiment with and Bucky wanted to know who was in charge of making such a loathy adversity.  _ But _ . It was better than nothing. 

“You’re a mess.” Steve chuckled. Fucking  _ chuckled _ . Like it was some stupid joke to him. Bucky’s shoulders rose a bit towards his ears and he held his breath. 

Because of course Bucky had always made sure he looked his absolute best for work. He always wore suits or just slacks with collared shirts. He often wore ties, nothing ever obnoxious or overly loud, and he never wore colors that weren’t black, gray, or dark in some pigment or another. His hair was always combed, styled, silky, and his shoes and socks were always chosen with careful deliberation to complete his entire outfit. 

Today was obviously not that kind of day. 

Another reason to make the day worse, his boss saw him as a mess, which made him feel all the more disappointed than he should be. 

Because… because they had never been the best of friends in university but they also had been something more than just strangers. Like,  _ almost  _ friends. But the thing is, when Bucky had first met Steve, the blond had been about hundred-twenty soaking wet and even then, Bucky had developed a crush on him. It was pretty pathetic, if Bucky was to look back on it, how he looked up to the guy who was older than him and went downright school-girl when Steve asked to borrow a pen or when Steve would lean over to him after class and discuss what would be a good time for them to study in the library. However, that’s all it had ever been -- a crush. Nothing more, nothing less. Steve never did or said anything to him that derived from the topic of school. Which was a good thing, considering Bucky had seen how aggressive Steve could turn when he saw bullies around campus or saw unjust for what it was. Steve could be damning at times, merciless when he wanted to. To everyone but Bucky, that is. 

Now it was different, but not really. There were days when Steve was so pissed off to the point that he’d snap at Bucky and yell his goddamn heart out. But that was all Steve ever did. And it was never even woundings words. Steve would just raise his voice as if that were his solution to getting his anger out towards him, or whoever happened to be on the receiving end of unholy wrath. It worked, nonetheless. 

Steve cleared his throat as if to gather Bucky’s attention, but Bucky ignored him and refused to turn back around to face him. He was still waiting for the heat to leave his cheeks. By now, his throat ached from the tears he had been holding back. 

When Bucky didn’t respond to him, Steve huffed a sign. “Your office is a mess, Buck,” he said. 

That certainly got Bucky to spin around. His face had turned from an upset look into a downright scowl. 

“That’s impossible. I just reorganized it,” he said in disbelief. Now he was just downright confused, thoughts of his absolutely rotten day suddenly forgotten. 

Steve shook his head, his lips tilting into a half-smile. Steve used that when he was trying not to smile period or when he was up to something. 

“No. I meant someone left things that are cluttering up your office.” 

Bucky was already brushing past him, walking briskly down the aisles of the office cubicles as his shoes made both a tapping and squeaking noise of annoyance and wetness with every step. He eyed the door to his office, which happened to be right next to Steve’s. He was Steve’s assistant slash secretary, had been ever since graduation. His office was half the size of Steve’s, a small desk, comfortable chair, state of the ark computer, a stunning view of Manhattan, and a bookshelf of important records that he kept handy of all of Steve’s most successful deals for the past two years. He had recently bought new pens, cleaned out the drawers of his desk so that he could fit new things in there that had been piling up on top of the desk. He had just cleaned the windows, too, vacuumed the carpet, and even taken out his own trash before the building janitors could (because he always liked taking care of his own messes).  _ So _ , how the fuck could his office be fucking messy? 

He opened the door to his office and the smell hit his nose before he saw the sight. 

His desk was  _ covered  _ in bouquets and baskets of ruby red roses. A fancy glass vase sat on the corner of his desk filled with at least three dozen of them. A smaller crystal-clear vase was on his bookshelf, and everywhere else, roses, roses, roses. The place smelled like a flower shop and barely left room for him to get to his desk. 

Slowly, he walked in, his eyes scouring every inch over and over as if he was trying to find proof that this wasn’t real. It just couldn’t be. 

Because who would do this? 

Outside, the sounds of people working at their cubicles had stopped, even the rain outside the building had stopped. All talking had hushed and every single pair of eyes was trained on the doorway of Bucky’s office. Desperately, Bucky met Steve’s gaze. 

“W-Who sent these?” he demanded. He rarely (never) demanded anything from his boss, but this made his frustrations boil over after everything the day had thrown at him. 

Steve, who had been leaning casually against the doorway with his hands in his pockets, shrugged, curving his lips into an I-don’t-know smile. 

Bucky walked over to the vase on his desk, barely making it as a few baskets of roses sat in the smack front of the desk. He eyed the fancy note sticking from the bouquet and hastily, he plucked it free, scanning it. 

_ Happy Birthday Bucky,  _

_ You deserve any beauty that symbols your own.  _

His jaw dropped open. He wanted to be mad that someone had the nerve to impose on his workplace but… but how could he not be flattered? He adored roses, loved them, and for someone to compare his beauty to them… It tugged at his heart of the hopeless romantic deep inside of him, but he could feel Steve’s eyes on him knowing how disappointed his boss probably was at the sight of the… mess. 

Whoever had sent them was demanding his attention though, and he hadn’t been interested in a single person since… Bucky sighed. Whoever sent this to him must have some interest in him. And if it meant that it’d take Bucky's mind off of his own interest he had in the back of his mind, that he still had for Steve, then he’d accept it. 

Bucky swallowed, licking at his lips. “I don’t need my office anyways,” he said, faintly as he fought being on the threshold of tears. “I’m sorry I’m late. I apologize if it threw off your schedule.” Without waiting for Steve to say a snarky remark, Bucky dug into his desk and pulled his planner out, opening it shakily. “Last night after you went home, Alexander Pierce called to set up a meeting for the business merger.” 

For a long moment, Steve was silent. Until, slowly, Steve nodded and looked at the Rolex on his wrist. “Come to my office then. Pierce will be wanting a phone conference with us. Oh, and Bucky?” 

Bucky was just making his way from the office, tucking his planner under his arm, when he turned to look up at Steve with moist eyes. 

Once again, Bucky was met with a quiet pause as Steve hesitated. One beat passed, then two, before Steve spoke. “You’ll have to stay over tonight again. But this time I’ll be here.” 

_ Great _ . 

* * *

Hours passed by. And by the time Bucky had begun to feel light-headed with starving himself over half the morning, lunch time had come around. A salad and fries had seemed to have satisfied him for waiting for a diner later on that evening, which he had to run and get for him and Steve while everyone else headed home for dinner with their families. Outside, the rain clouds were long gone and the setting sun was bright and orange, shining through the building almost blindingly. 

By now, Bucky’s feet had dried, but they were cold and uncomfortable. The only thing on his mind anymore around that time was a hot bath. 

“Whoever sent you those flowers must really like you,” Steve said over the sandwich Bucky had picked out for him (and of course Steve liked it because after being his assistant slash secretary and knowing him long before that, Bucky knew his tastes by now). 

Bucky shrugged, biting into his sandwich and looking down at the paperwork in his lap. “I looked over this during lunch and the income percentages are off on his paperwork. Pierce will need to correct it before you sign off on anything,” he murmured, setting his own sandwich down so he could hand the folder over to Steve. 

“We’re to take over the majority of the profits if the deal is to go through. Any misprint on official paperwork is either a costly mistake or an intent to manipulate the company,” Steve admitted, a furrow in his brows. 

Bucky nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And considering this is our first dealing with them, either outcome isn’t acceptable especially for being this late in the business exchange.” 

Steve nodded his head. His long, thick fingers drummed against the tabletop and Bucky watched, transfixed. “You really don’t want to talk about the flowers, do you.” There was an edge in Steve’s voice that made Bucky look up at him and freeze mid-chew. He hadn’t heard that edge in years. It’s how Steve talked to people that offended him, people that pressed all the wrong buttons on him. And most importantly, it was the voice that Steve had never once used towards Bucky before. 

“Why do  _ you _ ?” Bucky bit back without meaning to. It was just-- he was so  _ done  _ with today. He put his meal aside and brushed a few crumbs off his lap as he met Steve head on. “If it’s the clutter you’re worried about, I can have them out by tomorrow.” It’s not like he should even care about the flowers anyway. 

But Steve just kept looking at him. He had that look on his ridiculously handsome face like he wanted to say something stupid and quipping. Bucky didn’t want to hear it. 

Standing to his feet, Bucky let out a heavy sigh. “I’m taking a break.” He left Steve’s spacious office and went into his own. The place absolutely reeked of fresh flowers and he stared at the roses with something akin to awe now. He walked over to one of the baskets and touched the smooth, silky petal closest to him. In all honesty, he wasn’t much of a flower person, but he couldn’t help but idolize how beautiful the roses really were.

“I  _ thought  _ you’d like them.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion as he turned around and allowed his eyes to meet with Steve’s. Steve was leaning against the doorway the way he had earlier. Steve looked so casual, and begrudgingly offended. Only this time he wasn’t wearing that infuriating smirk. It was a softer, more open expression. The most vulnerable Bucky had ever seen him. 

“I… I never said I didn’t,” he murmured with a gentle shake of his head. 

_ Steve had done this?  _

Steve looked around and sighed. As if he regretted the mere sight of the roses. 

“We were friends once,” Steve murmured as he pushed himself off of the doorway and began walking over to him. Steve’s voice was just above a whisper, gentle, and his walk towards Bucky was as if he was approaching a wild animal that was a second away from getting spooked. 

Bucky looked away from him and ran a hand through his hair. His fingers caught in a few tangles, but he swiftly ignored them. 

“Why’d you pull away from me?" Steve continued. "After two years of being friends… why’d you stop?” 

Steve… Steve had thought they were  _ friends _ ? It felt like a slap in the face. Bucky had always felt like he had just been there and Steve just had the displeasure of being the closest one to him. They went to the library almost every week to study but afterwards, Steve never stuck around and he certainly never texted or called Bucky outside of their weekly meet up in the library. Steve had always saved Bucky a seat in Economics, sure, but there was never a greeting apart from a quick head nod and a quirk of his lips. They didn’t talk, didn’t even walk together afterwards, and they never sought each other outside of their one class they shared together. They were never friends. 

Not even when Bucky checked his email one day after graduation and saw it was from Steven G. Rogers. The man offered him a job with benefits and everything. So, Bucky showed up three days later, in his nicest suit, had a whole resume ready and everything, and he hadn’t left until Steve had given him an entire tour of the office along with ushering him to the office space right next to Steve’s and said, “This is your office.” There was no interview, and Steve hadn’t even bothered to flip past the cover letter of the resume, and all Bucky knew was that when he  _ did  _ leave, he was a man with a job. A man whose boss was Steve Rogers (who had also apparently hit a growth spurt so fucking drastic that it left Bucky second glancing at him every now and then just to make sure it was the same guy he knew from University). 

And  _ now _ , Steve talked to him, sure, but it was always only work-related and there was never anything discussed about either of their actual lives unless Steve was asking him if he had any plans for the weekend. Which was always no because Bucky liked to sleep, sleep, and sleep on the weekends. Besides, he didn’t have an excuse to do anything other than that. It’s not as if Steve ever invited him anywhere… because hello,  _ not  _ friends. 

Two years ago Bucky had the biggest fucking crush on the guy, and now was no different, but he had always thought it was one-sided. The sight of hundreds of roses proved otherwise, apparently. 

Steve stood a few feet away from him, looking at him with such an intense look when Bucky turned back around to look up at him. Steve was close enough to touch, and touch, he certainly did. When Steve reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Bucky’s ear, and his thick knuckles had brushed across Bucky’s cheek, Bucky couldn’t help but suck in a breath and refuse to move. 

Never in the years that Bucky had known him had he thought anything like this could possibly ever happen. But Steve was so close now that Bucky could feel the heat radiating off of him in a cloud of realization that this was it. Bucky had done it. Bucky had beat the demons within him and had found his happy ending. 

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” Steve said softly in his ear when he leaned forward and kissed Bucky’s cheek, leaving a tingling sensation behind. 

Steve curved his index finger and tilted Bucky’s chin up with it, his touch soft. Bucky could smell him-- a rich mixture of spice and spearmint. It suited Steve, almost too alluring for Bucky. Steve forced him to look squarely up at him all the while he leaned in quickly and crushed his lips with Bucky’s, one of his thick, muscled arms wrapped around Bucky’s much smaller torso so Steve could pull them incredibly close together. 

Bucky melted into the embrace and grabbed at the collar of Steve’s shirt to keep himself close to the man, trying to get even  _ closer _ . Steve’s lips were smooth but rough, hungry as if not only him, but Bucky too, had been waiting for this for a  _ very  _ long time. 

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this during my lunch break today as a de-stress mechanism and honestly, I'm so proud.


End file.
